


This is what we have now

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Rival Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-29
Updated: 2009-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all these years, this feels almost as familiar as falling back into an old habit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is what we have now

There used to be a prerequisite to their encounters, and that was the consumption of litres of whisky —France would add ice cube after ice cube— and wine —England would demand it to be Italian— and sherry —a gift from Spain— and beer from a pub or two. It was impossible to shag that frog otherwise, let alone bear the look of him, the sound of his voice and, to be honest, anything French about him. Which was, all things considered, an awful lot.

Liquor was also needed so that they could find a common ground beyond _Franglais_ , in all likelihood the most hideous pidgin known to man or beast. As a matter of fact, England would prefer to sit through Gallic drunken monologues, if given a choice. It was better than having to hear how France's terrible accent disgraced a language that Her Majesty, the Queen, would not deign to consider her own.

Looking back, however, those were good times. As good as anything could get whenever France was involved.

But things have changed. 

Now they only have tea and coffee —England knows that's just to spite him— all the while they discuss bilateral matters with the kind of vigour befitting a pair of middle-aged ladies. Even though he might be willing to concede that he almost doesn't feel bad, England can't help thinking they're better off fighting each other. In fact, if he didn't think Europe has seen enough warfare for peace to last at least a century or two, he would even wish for a war between them to add some spark.

Ah, if only they were at war! He could bite France's shoulder while feeling something deeper than exasperation. It's a pity. Hate suited them so. Oh, well.

For the truth is that today, after all these years, this feels almost as familiar as falling back into an old habit. No, a vice, he corrects himself. Almost familiar, yes, but not comfortable, because it's not too long until he remembers that this is France, and what a disgusting thing it is for a gentleman like him to have to kiss this fiend!

" _Angleterre_ ," France chuckles against his neck, "I think we have become old."

"We have not," England says only to be contrary, even if he thinks otherwise. At the very least, being sober might just be a novelty for the two of them.

Parisian blue looks at him from above, but he's too distracted to notice. The implications of agreeing with each other are that terrible. But then France takes him in that filthy mouth of his, and all that England can think of is that, at the moment, he doesn't bloody care.


End file.
